


Tease

by SymbioticAntithesis



Series: Tumblr Ficlets [14]
Category: Teen Wolf (TV)
Genre: Alpha Derek, Awkward situations, Dirty Talk, Established Relationship, Lingerie, M/M, Phone Sex, Sexting, slight AU
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-11-29
Updated: 2013-11-29
Packaged: 2018-01-02 22:26:19
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,765
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1062366
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/SymbioticAntithesis/pseuds/SymbioticAntithesis
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>The first time Stiles sent him a lewd photo of himself, Derek wasn’t completely sure what to make of it.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Tease

**Author's Note:**

> Based on [this](http://sterekpornlookalikes.tumblr.com/post/67855960428) pic which is nsfw

The first time Stiles sent him a lewd photo of himself, Derek wasn’t completely sure what to make of it.  Stiles was at his last year in college at Stanford and Derek had remained in Beacon Hills to ensure its safety from the supernatural and, apparently, Stiles was bored and missing him.  It was a picture of Stiles’ neck and jawline, his throat exposed and his long fingers gently resting on his pulse point.  To anyone else, the photo wouldn’t have been  _that_ suggestive but Derek’s a  _werewolf_  so Stiles  _knew_  what he was doing to him.

Derek would never admit it, but he jerked off to the picture that same night, and the next day - thank god it was a Saturday - he drove to Stanford and sequestered Stiles in his room for the rest of the weekend.

The next time it happened, Derek was at the California state werewolf council discussing border disputes which was incredibly boring and mind numbing.  But attendance was mandatory, otherwise the council would have deemed his territory available to claim and he couldn’t have that, not when they’d worked so hard to secure it in the first place.  Stiles had tagged along but he wasn’t allowed in the council itself since he’s human, regardless of the obvious relationship he had with Derek.  Rules were rules, however, and Stiles stayed behind in the hotel room.  Bored.  ’Cause it’s Stiles, and Derek wouldn’t have expected anything else.  But Derek  _should_  have known better than to open the message in a room full of werewolves.

The photo was of Stiles’ hipbone, the flat of his belly, his navel, and the trail of hair leading down to his crotch.  The picture cut off right before Stiles’ dick and Derek felt his mouth water at the thought of what exactly Stiles was doing in the hotel room to keep himself occupied.  He wanted to nip at those moles on Stiles’ hips, lick down to Stiles cock and lap up the precome he was sure was pearled at the tip.

Someone cleared his (her?) throat and Derek was startled out of his thoughts.  Everyone was staring at him, and he flushed in embarrassment and tucked his phone away guiltily.  The expressions around the room was a mix of amusement and disgust.  Stiles was so going to get it when he got back to the room; he totally did it on purpose, knowing that the other wolves would smell Derek’s arousal.

And it wasn’t that Derek was ashamed of his relationship with Stiles, there was just a  _time and place_  for these kinds of things but Stiles clearly didn’t care about public decency and etiquette.  Well, Derek was already a bit of an exhibitionist and it must have rubbed off and Stiles, and both of them also had a thing called  _how can I embarrass him in public without getting us arrested_.  It had led to some very interesting situations.

Derek sat through the rest of the meeting uncomfortably, half-hard, and when the council was finally adjourned he was out of the room like a shot.  He heard a mixture of chuckles and tsks behind him, but he really couldn’t care less.  Not when his human was in for a proper and thorough ravishing.  He got to the hotel room in record time and took Stiles apart piece by piece, relishing in his whines and cries, teasing him until Stiles was practically sobbing with need.  Derek barely had to touch his weeping cock for Stiles to come explosively over his stomach and chest, and when Derek finally slid into him, Stiles was shaking with oversensitivity.  He fucked into Stiles hard and fast and felt smug when he managed to wrangle another orgasm out of his human.  Afterwards, they lay in an exhausted, messy heap on the bed.

"You’re going to be the death of me."

"But what a way to go," Stiles said cheekily.

Derek huffed and buried his nose in Stiles neck, licking and biting absently until they both dozed off.

The texts escalated from thereon and Derek made it a point to never open Stiles’ messages while he was in a meeting, especially one with werewolves.  Regardless, Stiles was certainly making a name for himself (and Derek) without even  _being_  at council meetings and Derek wasn’t sure if he should be impressed or irritated.

_Alpha Derek Hale of Beacon Hills and his human mate._

Once, Stiles sent him a picture of himself in nothing but his boxer briefs, one side of the waistband pulled down to reveal his hipbone.  Then it was Stiles’ cock cradled in his long fingers.  After that, it was Stiles’ ass with a butt plug shoved firmly in his tight hole.  Then, what really made Derek nearly choke on his tongue, was Stiles in lacy black panties, his dick barely contained in the thin fabric.

Derek didn’t think it was possible - and maybe he was exaggerating - but that night was the best sex of his life, and he and Stiles had awesome sex.

Then one day, when Derek had to travel to New York for the national council and Stiles had to stay behind to corral his betas and deal with a rogue kitsune, Stiles sent him a picture that almost sent him into cardiac arrest.  Stiles was lying on his side on their bed, a garter belt around his waist clipped to thigh-high sheer stockings.  His cock was hard and sticking out of the thin thong he was wearing and his hand was splayed just above his navel.

Derek swallowed around his suddenly dry throat and felt his arousal pool in the pit of his stomach.  Fuck, why were they on opposite ends of the country again?  He thanked life’s little victories that he was already in his hotel room and most decidedly  _not_  around other werewolves where they could smell the pheromones rolling off of him in waves.  Derek closed the message and punched the call button.  He didn’t have to wait two rings for Stiles to pick up.

"Mmm, Derek," he greeted.  "And how is my ridiculously gorgeous werewolf doing in New York City without me?"

"Stiles," Derek growled.

"Oooh yeah, baby, talk dirty to me."

Derek rolled his eyes even though Stiles couldn’t see it.  ”You’re an idiot.”

“ _Your_  idiot,” Stiles said.  ”And you love it.”

"Only sometimes," he deadpanned.

"Like right now?" Stiles asked, his breath catching in his throat at the end of the question.  "When I’m hard and leaking for you, wishing you were here?"

A low rumble of assent escaped him and Derek was leaning back onto the pillows of the bed, unbuckling his belt with his free hand.

"Yeah, take out your cock," Stiles hummed.  "You have a gorgeous cock; I ever tell you that?"

"Constantly."  Derek shoved his pants and underwear down his hips, just enough for his cock to spring free of its confines.  He wrapped his fingers around the base his eyes fluttered shut.

Stiles snorted, “Well, you do.  Nice and thick and it fills me up so perfectly.”  He groaned, his breathing unsteady.  Derek sighed and stroked himself languidly, imagining Stiles doing the same, his long legs stretched open for him.

"Open yourself up for me," Derek ordered, twisting his hand at the head and biting back a groan.  "Keep your underwear on."

"God, Derek," he said shakily.  "I wish you were doing it to me instead."

"I know," he agreed.  "I do, too."

Derek heard the cap of a bottle snap open and he bit his lip at the image of Stiles prepping himself, those long fingers deep in his tight, pink hole.  ”Two fingers,” he said, “Put two fingers inside.”

Stiles laughed.  ”You really have it in for me, don’t you?”

"You can handle it.  I know you can."

"You bet I can, and then some."

Derek snorted.  ”Just do it, Stiles.  I want to hear you.”

"Bossy," Stiles teased, but obliged.  Derek heard the rustle of sheets and the slight hitch of breath as Stiles slid his slick fingers inside him.  "Mmm, feels good," he said.

Derek continued to stroke himself.  ”Fuck yourself on your fingers, Stiles,” he said.  ”I love your hands, your fingers are so long and slender.”  Stiles mewled on the other end of the line and Derek grinned.  ”Gorgeous,” he said lowly.  ”I’d love to see you prepare yourself for me, opening up your tight ass for my cock.”

Stiles groaned.  ”Your fingers feel better,” he managed.  ”Thicker.  And you can always hit my prostate head on without fail.”

"Oh, I know," he smirked.  "C’mon, Stiles, let me hear you."  Stiles shifted on the bed to obey and Derek knew when he hit his prostate with the little cry that escaped Stiles’ lips.  "God, your mouth," he said, thinking of how Stiles’ lips would be parted, slick with saliva.  "So fucking distracting."  He started to move his hand faster on his cock, wanting them to be on the same level.  "Touch yourself, Stiles.  I want to hear you come.  I want you to make a  _mess_ of our sheets, that  _lingerie_  so I can come home to you and smell you everywhere.”

Stiles whined and Derek heard the wet sounds of Stiles fucking himself with one hand and working his dick with the other.  God, he wished he could see him.

Their conversation tapered off into pants and moans as they worked themselves to orgasm.

"Fuck, Derek," Stiles moaned.  "I’m gonna - "

"Come for me," he growled.  "Do it.  I want to hear you fucking  _ruined_.”

Stiles cried out and Derek squeezed his eyes shut at the image of Stiles arching his back, his spunk splashing against his stomach and chest.  It didn’t take long for Derek to tumble over the precipice.  He stroked himself through his orgasm, breathing heavily, and listening to Stiles on the other end making little noises of contentment.

"How long before you’re home again?" Stiles breathed into the receiver after long moments of silence as they came down from their high.  And Derek’s heart swelled at the word  _home_ rolling easily off of Stiles’ tongue.

"A few days," he replied.

"Wish it was sooner," he said tiredly.

"I know."

"Mmm, love you," Stiles mumbled.

Derek smiled, warmth and affection bubbling inside him.  ”Love you, too.”

"When you get home," he slurred, and Derek could barely focus on Stiles’ voice.  "I want you to fuck me while I’m wearing this, want you to use me like a whore."

"Fuck," he groaned.  Yeah, Stiles will definitely be the death of him.  But really,  _what a way to go._


End file.
